


Who We Chose

by DreamPackParrish



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dream Pack, Established Relationship, Jealous Adam, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Adam, Post-The Raven King, Rough Sex, adam is rough but not violent and it's taken him a while to get here, mentioned past dream pack orgies, the dream pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 02:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12644760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DreamPackParrish/pseuds/DreamPackParrish
Summary: “Oh my god. Parrish. You’re jealous! You’re jealous that they fucked—“ But his words are muffled by another bruising kiss, his laugh is cut off by his own wanton moan as Adam bites down on his shoulder—hard. “Fuck. Parrish. If I knew this was gonna get you so fuckin’ hard for me—“ But he can’t finish the thought





	Who We Chose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZeeMe (RelapsingTrainwreck)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RelapsingTrainwreck/gifts).



No one had ever thought they’d so much as get along.

They were too different, from two different worlds, with different dreams and very different aspirations in life. If you had asked Kavinsky, he’d tell you the two of them were more similar than people might think. If you had asked Adam, he’d probably say something similar but he’d also say that the main difference between K and himself, was that K has never had a problem taking things for himself and keeping them. Kavinsky considers a lot of things to be his and has never had a problem getting more. Adam Parrish has never possessed much, and he hates the idea of belonging to another person. It’s why he would never call another person his. And yet. Adam Parrish is jealous.

It took him a while to realize, and he hates how it pushes against his own logic, but there’s no other name for what he’s feeling. Adam hates it, but he hated listening to the others talk about Kavinsky more. Now past the initial intimidation that comes with formally meeting his boyfriend’s chosen family, meeting _the_ dream pack he’d heard so much about, the guys are over much more often. They come over to watch movies, to drink beer, to talk shit. Adam doesn’t mind it, they’ve even begun to grow on him as he gains further understanding of their personalities and roles in K’s life. From there, however, it got nostalgic.

Somehow they got on the topic of K settling down. Somehow they started talking about all the fun they used to have with K before he became monogamous. It’s harmless. They’re just friends. Adam knows this. Adam also knows he doesn’t believe in violence as an answer to his issues. But he wouldn’t be against tripping Swan on his way out if it stopped him from hearing one more story of how K used to flush and fight back and scream. K doesn’t play hard to get with him. He doesn’t need tips on getting him to submit. All Adam has to do is ask and K never pretends he doesn’t want it.

Adam has trouble asking this time. Jealously has the words twisting incomprehensibly in his mouth, stuck in his throat, heavy on his tongue, poisoned with something so akin to the anger Adam is used to that it makes him sick to his stomach. When K closes the door with a final wave to Prokopenko, the last of the pack out the door, Adam can’t find his words. Instead, he spins K around and pins him up against the hard wooden surface. His mouth meets the smaller boy’s in an aggressive kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and passion. Kavinsky responds in kind, moaning into it and his fingers tangle in Adam’s hair, tugging his head back as he breaks for air.

“How long were you holding onto that?” Kavinsky grins, scrapes his teeth along Adam’s sharp jaw as he listens to the taller boy catch his breath. “The boys’ stories get you all hot and bothered? Did you like thinking of them fucking me?” But his words only rekindle the jealous heat in Adam’s stomach and he doesn’t quite slam K back against the door, but with the force in which his body pins the other there again, it’s a close thing. He takes K’s smaller wrists in his long fingers, pinning them up above his head and holding them against the flat wood. K gasps, groans, as he pretends to struggle, testing Adam’s strong grip, getting more turned on when he finds it doesn’t give.

“Stop talking about them.” Is all Adam says and suddenly it clicks. K isn’t stupid, and he blinks, dumbfounded for a short moment before his grin his back, shit eating and smug and Adam wants to fuck him so hard he forgets how to look so cocky.

“Oh my god. Parrish. You’re jealous! You’re jealous that they fucked—“ But his words are muffled by another bruising kiss, his laugh is cut off by his own wanton moan as Adam bites down on his shoulder—hard. “Fuck. Parrish. If I knew this was gonna get you so fuckin’ hard for me—“ But he can’t finish the thought. His back arches off the door, his slim hips pressing forward desperately in search of friction. Adam tugs Kavinsky’s hair hard, forcing his head back as he bites bruises onto his boyfriend’s collar bone, scrapes teeth over pebbled nipples through the thin cotton of K’s shirt. Kavinsky whines and he isn’t above begging, he knows what it means when Adam’s touches turn rough. The taller boy won’t say K belongs to him, but K knows in moments like this, he’s supposed to play the part. The thought always makes him shiver.

“C’mon, Parrish. P. _Adam_.” He bucks his hips again. “Fuck me. Make me forget their names.” The words make Adam growl and Kavinsky sucks in a sharp breath when Adam steps away, pupils blown and panting. He doesn’t rub his now freed wrists, he hopes they bruise.

“Take off your clothes.” Adam keeps his voice leveled, but K can hear the strain. Can see another thing straining in his boyfriend’s jeans. “And go get on the bed.” K swallows another wave of arousal and pulls his shirt over his head, tossing it on the floor. Adam is watching him, blue eyes intense, and K refuses to break eye contact, even as he steps out of his track pants and boxers. The fire in Adam’s gaze makes K shiver in anticipation and he loves every second of it. He walks to the bedroom and Adam follows.

Kavinsky climbs on the bed, watching as Adam takes his turn stripping. It’s a beautiful sight, lean, toned muscle moving under tan, freckled skin, and K licks his lips. When both boys are equally nude, Adam gets onto the bed and crawls over to K, straddling his hips and pinning him down once again.

“Tell me what I can do to you.” Adam says, voice hoarse as he takes an actual moment to seek consent. Kavinsky fights the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he responds with:

“Anything.”

It’s all the answer Adam needs before he’s kissing K again, lips swollen and bruised. His strong hand holds Kavinsky’s wrist against the cool sheets of the bed and the other reaches down to shove pale thighs apart. As the taller boy kisses lower, biting and licking bruises in a trail of possessive affection, he lets go of K’s hands. The smaller boy makes to thread his own thin fingers in dusty hair but Adam pushes them away.

“No. Don’t move. Keep your hands up there.” Kavinsky swallows again and does as he’s told. Adam keeps kissing, bites the thin skin pulled over boney hips, holds them down when K bucks and Adam bites the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs.

“Fuuuck.” K gasps, and his hips shake with the effort to stay still. Adam smirks up at him and K whines. “Fuck. Adam. _Fuck_ me.”

“Shut up.” Adam says because he knows what K likes. “Don’t talk unless I tell you to.” The smaller boy just sucks in a sharp breath and nods, watching the other boy with dark eyes.

“Suck on these.” Adam reaches up, pressing long fingers into K’s mouth without waiting for his agreement. Kavinsky moans around the digits, keeping eye contact as he gets Adam’s fingers nice and wet, sucking and licking and watching Adam fight back a moan of his own when the tips of his finger brush the back of K’s throat. When he’s pleased, Adam nods and pulls his fingers out of his boyfriend’s mouth. He spreads K with one hand and pushes a spit slicked finger into Kavinsky all the way to the third knuckle in one easy thrust. The paler boy gasps, the sound breaking at the end, and he can’t help but arch off the bed at the sudden intrusion. Adam would be concerned he was hurting K if he wasn’t so sure from previous bouts and conversations that this is exactly what the other loves.

“Good boy.” Is all Adam says before he starts working K open. The process is rushed and less than gentle, but both boys are aching by the time Adam pulls his fingers out. Kavinsky is flushed all the way up his pale chest, his bitten and bruised neck, his cheeks and ears and Adam can’t wait any more. He grabs K’s hips, pulling him down the bed in one rough tug and fits his own hips between the smaller boy’s thighs, lining himself up. He spares a quick glance at K, one last search for confirmation before he pushes into him in one sharp thrust.

“F-Fu—“ But the word is a cut off sound at best as K cries out. His ankles lock together at the small of Adam’s back, pulling them flush against each other and despite the taller boy’s instructions, Kavinsky’s hips arch off the mattress and his hands scramble for something to hold.

Adam moans but remembers himself a moment later, shoving K back down and pinning his wrists above his head, holding his hips down with a bruising grip. It’s taken time for him to get comfortable being this rough, but now he doesn’t hesitate much. He bites at K’s swollen mouth and starts to thrust, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in. Kavinsky screams when Adam adjusts, angling his hips to slam into K’s prostate with each new thrust and refusing to relent. K writhes under the taller boy, struggling and desperate and close. His wrists tug at Adam’s strong grip as he loses his ability to follow instructions and remain still. It’s too much and he needs more, overwhelmed, thighs quivering and Adam doesn’t stop for one second.

“ _Adam_.” His name passes K’s lips in a desperate sob and he sounds so completely wrecked, so close to tears because of how good he feels—how Adam is making him feel—that it’s all Adam can do to kiss him again. He doesn’t pull away, taking every last ounce of air between them, suffocating them both as they kiss and he’s light headed, sure that K’s head is spinning too. It perfect and it’s enough and when K’s body goes tense and rigid under him, Adam finally pulls away, letting K come with a strangled, desperate gasp for air mixed with a hitched moan he doesn’t have enough oxygen to follow all the way through. Kavinsy whines as Adam continues to thrust into him, body pliant and boneless. He’s over sensitive and his nails bite into his own palms. It’s enough. K belongs to no one, but he’s Adam’s, he’s giving this all to Adam, and it’s enough to have him coming too, hips snapping into K’s with one last thrust before he pulls out and collapses next to him, muscles giving out.

The two lie there, panting, chests heaving with the effort to fill their lungs with full, deep breaths. After a few silent moments, Kavinsky laughs, Adam glances at him without turning his head.

“What?”

“Nothing.” But he can’t help the laughter still bubbling out of him. “I was just thinking. If you’re gonna fuck me like every time you get jealous, I should have the boys tell you some more stories. Though maybe not for a few days. I’m definitely going to feel this shit tomorrow.” The shit eating grin is back and Adam would be angry if he wasn’t so in love with this fucking asshole.

Adam shoves at K’s shoulder, but it’s playful and he’s laughing now too. Adam is jealous, but he knows that K doesn’t belong to him. He chooses to be with him. And that’s even better.


End file.
